Tuesday, October 29, 2013

What
a funny lot we Alaskans are. It matters not how long we’ve lived here, we
merrily fritter away the last days of fall, seemingly oblivious to what is
steamrolling right at us. When the first hard frosts are quickly followed by
the first few inches of snow, there is a general attitude of total disbelief.

“Good
lord! I didn’t see that coming! Who’d have thought: SNOW! I can’t believe it.”“New
to the area?”

“Nope.
Lived here all my life; about sixty years.”It
doesn’t take a doctorate in meteorology to have a fair suspicion that winter is
coming, particularly when all the plants lay over and die, leaves carpet the
lawn, and the geese have passed through honking like so many aerial warning
horns. Although I can see how the completely dead plant thing might fake a
person out as we spend a great deal of time watching plants die around our yard
throughout the summer months. However, the geese should be a dead giveaway.

Missed the geese, can't miss the creeping snow

“Lookee
there, Zeke. Them crazy geese are flying in a V-formation, and honking for all
they’s worth.”“Which
way they headed?”

“In
a general south direction.”“Think
it means anything?”

“Dunno.
I’m tryin’ to figure out why one side of the V is longer than the other.”“Well,
that’s simple, ya dummy! There’s more of ‘em on that side!”

“Reckon?”Missing
those obvious signs of winter’s impending arrival is like walking into the
business end of a garbage truck that’s backing up. Yet every year, there are a
number of things I can just plan on doing in an after-the-fact mode.

The
number one item on my after-the-fact list is cleaning out the rain gutters.
Although, to be fair, there is sound reasoning behind my annual assault on the
leafy slush and ice in my gutters. It simply doesn’t make sense to clean out
gutters when there are leaves still clinging stubbornly to the trees, just
waiting to settle into the gutters right after I’ve wasted a beautiful autumn
day cleaning them out. In an effort to avoid that aggravating situation, I wait
patiently for the last few stragglers to make the leap. Without fail, those
last few leaves are not sent drifting down by a playful wind, but are ripped
from the limbs under the crushing weight of a heavy, wet snow.To
be frank about the matter, I can’t imagine cleaning out gutters without the use
of a screwdriver as an ice pick. In fact, I’m not entirely sure it’s legal.

Another
perennial member on the list is storing the garden hose. This has become a bone
of contention with Mrs. Poynor.

"Dude, you can put up the hose and change the oil, now."

“A.E.,
have you put up the hose yet?”

“No,
there’s still time to wash the truck.”“How
many times have you washed the truck over the past twelve months?”

“All
together? Umm... none.”“Put
up the hose.”

“We’ve
got plenty of time. I’ll get to it.”

That
conversation repeats itself several times until the hose is dragged to the
garage for thawing out. I imagine it looks to the neighbors as if I’ve been
attacked by a pack of rabid Hula-Hoops as I stumble across the lawn carrying
130 feet of rigid, coiled garden hose. Come spring, as usual, I suppose there
will be a few more splits that will need judicious application of duct tape.
Not only is the hose beginning to look like a well-fed anaconda in spots,
it’s almost too heavy to drag around the yard.

While
the gutters and the hose are freezing up, the snow thrower is begging for
maintenance. That’s another thing that will wait, no doubt, well beyond the
time a prudent man would take action. The time frame, according to the average
Alaskan, for such things is after there are eight inches of heavy, crusty snow coating
the driveway. Only then will the need to change the oil on the snow thrower
become an absolute necessity. Only then will it be possible to experience the
thrill of dropping the little drain plug in eight inches of snow due to frozen
fingers. Only then will hours be spent groping around in the snow with numbed
stubs, picking up every piece of gravel in a four-foot radius because each one
feels just like the lost little drain plug.I
guess being ready for winter really means just knowing what misery to expect.